She is the form-fitted sheets and a comfortable mattress. She is the low hum of a ceiling fan against the backdrop of a creaky house like the calm within battles against the chaos without. She is the sweet smell of lilies, ink, and water based glue sometimes accompanied by the scent of rain. She is the perfect paper smell from my nightly three chapters in my latest bound adventure. She is the glow of my night light to remind me of safety pushing nightmares away to make way for sweet dreams of her. She is the slit of moonlight through slitted shades and the red blinks and beeps occasionally from my computer tower. She is the colour spots that haunt me with heavenly hues as I adjust to the darkness. She is the deepest recess of my imagination filling in the time between lights out and knock out with a different arch in your brow for every pillow talk conversation. She is the eye strain of staring at a computer screen all day with nothing and everything to do while I delay my procrastination with the benign and fill in the gaps with the boring. When sleep finally convinces me that it could be enough she is the spring loaded lumbar support that tells me it is safe to rest these eyes. Then it is with warmth she is the douve dagged all the way up to my neck with an ankle bare to balance the affair. And when cool nights are required she is the AC inspired making it part of their quirk to drone and glow and smell and feel it’s real and I need it all to be rested for work.